


Constano Grissini on his Deathbed

by redolater



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 05: A Crown of Candy, Death, F/M, Hanging, Pining, Repressed Character, Spoilers (?), Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25817038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redolater/pseuds/redolater
Summary: Such a shame Constano took his final, labored breaths while moping over what could have been his life.
Relationships: Constano Grissini/Fettucina Alfredi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Constano Grissini on his Deathbed

Upon the realization of his fast-approaching death, Constano Grissini let loose a howl that might have haunted his foes if it was not surrounded by the other noises of war.   
He was bloodied and bruised there upon the candy grass, sickly sweet and fragrant. No miracle worker or alchemist could seal the wounds that leaked beneath his armor. Constano’s heart twisted when the image of his dear friend Fettucina Alfredi appeared in his mind at the thought of an alchemist. 

Friend? 

Friend. 

Such a shame he took his final, labored breaths while moping over what could have been his life. 

He and Alfredi grew up together in the same lesser village of Ceresia, attending the same schools and swiftly befriending one another. Constano always knew her to be brilliant, a shining gem of wisdom and intellect that he simply never could’ve achieved. He wasn’t unlearned, but it was clear that between the two of them, she was the genius.   
Constano’s fondest memories were in the golden wheat fields with her. He had never been a conversationalist but one of his greatest joys was listening to her speak about politics, about history, and most often of all, about science. 

He joked that one day she would rise above her station and become a Senator. Eventually her interest in alchemy would bring her to the church, which Constano certainly didn’t mind as a devout Bulbian, but he still sometimes thought about someday being the right hand to Senator Alfredi. There was not a thing in the world he wanted more than to pledge to her and watch her change the world and to defend her, and Bulb above, yes, he was so deeply in love with her then, but he didn’t know if it was enough for him to just be her husband. Constano wanted to be her sword and shield, her truest comfort, her dearest comfort. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to be her husband, too. 

He never had the chance to propose. 

Constano was drafted into the Imperial Army at age nineteen and he climbed the ranks at breakneck speed. Not only was he agile and hard-working, he was alert. He was vigilant and observant and he thought critically about his actions but never delayed too long before moving. This was something he attributed to Fettucina. She taught him the ways of paying attention (something Constano always struggled with) and the cleverness of the world.   
They kept in touch, of course, writing letters back and forth and sometimes running into each other with a stroke of luck. 

(He remembered being shocked to see her with glowing eyes - it was a trick of her alchemy, he knew, she had shown him this as a child. She could’ve been a goddess, Constano thought, before strictly reminding himself of the one true god. Secretly he obsessed over the respect and reverence she demanded with those shining eyes at night. Bulb, help him.)

The correspondence, in Constano’s opinion, was far too slow and inconstant, but that was a misfortune he had to live with. 

Constano was thrilled to see her again at the Concord. Her hair had grown longer than it once was and her smile was a little more muted than it used to be, but it was her, in the flesh. They sat together at the feast, laughing and talking like they were young again, walking through the wheat fields after school.   
Constano remembered how his heart stopped when Fettucina asked him to dance. He didn’t know how to dance. Thankfully, she didn’t care, grabbing his wrist and leading him to the corner where a band was in full swing and where couples drunkenly swayed to the rhythm. Waltzing was the second to last good memory he had of Fettucina. 

The last was when he accompanied her out of the great Cornucopian Hall back to where she would be staying for the event. She was giggly, holding his arm and smiling unabashedly, happier than she’d seemed in the few times he’d seen her since their childhood. The sun was setting over the city and Fettucina looked simply radiant in its glow. 

Constano halted just outside the building. The guards standing watch at its doors saluted him, and sensing the energy of the commander and the miracle worker, they each turned away. Fettucina’s hand moved up to his face, cupping his cheek with a calloused hand as she whispered a goodbye. 

Constano Grissini, in all his bravery on the battlefield, was too much of a coward to lean in and kiss her then. It was his greatest regret.   
The next morning Constano was awakened by another commander, who instructed him to get dressed and leave quickly. Nobody told him why the whole city, it seemed, was gathered in the town square. 

Until he saw Fettucina being brought up to the gallows. 

To his credit, Constano was an expert at keeping his emotions in check. Nobody suspected that he wanted to scream and run and leave with her, back to Ceresia, back home. None of the people standing beside him suspected that there were tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Constano heard somebody announcing her crimes but he didn’t care who it was or what they were, he was focused on Fettucina’s disheveled hair and her stony expression and the way that the shine in her eyes was fading. 

Now, Constano Grissini was dying in the grass of Candia. It was taking longer than he expected. He stared at the dawn spreading across the sky and recalled how long it took Fettucina to finally perish on the noose. Maybe a tear slipped down his face. Death swept over him moments before a white flag was raised on Castle Candy. 

For a moment, everything was nothing and the Bulb was just a sphere and the world was meaningless and Constano Grissini barely existed. 

The next moment he woke up in a familiar-seeming place. Fettucina stood above him, eyes brown, like they always were, and her hand was outstretched to him. He took it and she helped him to his feet. “Hello, Constano,” she greeted, but she was already being swept into the tightest embrace she’d ever felt. 

Constano Grissini knew two things about heaven: he was there with Fettucina and it was a wheat field, shining, golden, smelling like home.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys what if I got emotional about two villain characters with barely any screen time? yeaaaaaaaaa 
> 
> comments and kudos always make my day, and I hope you have a nice one as well!


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